Page 25

Annalise

C yrus is taking me to a wing that I’ve never been to. He walks silently in front of me with his head held high as we pass through the silent halls of the palace. I use the time to look around at the familiar halls. When I was a slave, I was never allowed to roam them. As I take in the small bookcase that divots into the wall, I know that there is a hidden passageway that leads through the palace and into places like the kitchens and libraries. That is the length to which Cyrus and his forefathers would go to keep humans out of their site. And now, Cyrus has gone as far as to ban humans altogether from the palace.

My mind shifts to the humans I saw in the market. They were slaves to the beasts working there, and each of them, though in much better conditions than the palace slaves once were, had brands and looks of despair on their faces. Yet Joan and Cyrus want me as a human to ignore this injustice.

I know everything I do is for Ciel’s sake, but can I just erase that part of me and pretend I do not feel anything for them? Even if he is like his father, I want Ciel to have compassion for humans as he was born to one. But I am not king. I am not even a beast powerful enough to challenge Cyrus’s word on the matter. And that places me in a peculiar position.

I’m pulled from my thoughts as we enter unfamiliar territory. The paintings on the walls are are of royals past, each of them sharking the same dark blue gaze that beasts have—none, however, share Cyrus’s trait of white hair.

We continue until we reach large glass doors that open to lead to a balcony. The long balcony overlooks the kingdom as we walk over it to another set of doors, connecting the palace to a wing I didn’t know existed. Once we reach the doors, the guards standing out front bow upon our approach, opening the large double doors to reveal a massive entry hall.

I look around in awe. The doors have glass windows built in the center, casting natural light within the entry hall, and a window sits opposite to overlook the gardens behind. Cyrus continues to walk ahead of me as we reach a large archway that contains family paintings of previous generations of royals.

Cyrus, his father, and his mother all have individual paintings to accompany the large family portrait in the center that stretches to the ceiling, and I find myself focusing on Cyrus’s portrait in awe. He looks much different. His hair is shorter, and there are no scars covering his body. His expression is soft as well. It’s the same expression I see him use with Ciel.

It’s gentle.

I shift my attention to his mother’s portrait, for the first time seeing a beast who shares Cyrus’s traits. Her hair is the same color as Cyrus’s, and she has a soft smile on her lips, with eyes that are as confident as her son’s now. She’s beautiful, and I see a lot of her features in Cyrus.

Cyrus comes up next to me, the warmth of his seal spreading over me as he gently places his hand against the small of my back, pulling me in close. He doesn’t speak, his attention captivated by the portrait of his mother. I slowly turn my head to see his expression, my heart fluttering as I take him in.

He’s enamored with the portrait of his mother, his gaze unwavering as a small smile rests on his lips. It gives much more meaning to his harsh words to me back then about Ciel needing me. The sadness I see in Cyrus’s eyes is devastating.

“She would have loved you. And just…adored Ciel. He is much like her with his stubbornness,” he says.

I am once again caught off guard by his suddenness to open up to me, especially about something so personal. I am especially cautious as I think of Joan’s reaction. Cyrus forbade his mother from being spoken about. But I also recall Joan’s advice to me to turn this into something more.

“What was her name?” I ask.

Cyrus’s smile drops, and I think he’s going to scold me for asking, but he doesn’t. His gaze remains on the portrait as he speaks.

“Eleanor.”

Cyrus’s gaze has so much admiration in it as he takes in his mother. He suddenly turns to face me, a grin on his lips.

“Joan tells me you were asking about her,” he says.

I immediately look away, unable to hold his gaze.

“I didn’t know it was forbidden to speak of her,” I whisper.

“And yet you asked me about her,“ he counters.

I don’t have a response for him, and to my shock, he isn’t angry. He only laughs.

“You can ask. Though I do not know how information about her will be helpful to you as a ruler. You two are very different.”

His words pull my attention, and I immediately look up.

“How?”

“Well, she is a beast who came from a line of purebred beasts holding the greatest power our kind has ever known. And you are a human. If that, seeing as you were bred into existence,” he says.

Cyrus places his finger under my chin, forcing my gaze to meet his.

“You will not rule with power or a name. You are the first of your kind. Do not rely on those past to help you. You must create your own way,” he says gently.

My eyes widen at his words. They sound foreign, coming from his mouth as if he is offering me advice, which is strangely out of character. He notices my confusion releasing my chin to hold my hand.

“Come. I still have something I wish to show you,” he says, pulling me along.

Cyrus leads me up the wide double staircase into another hall. We continue until we reach two double doors. There are no guards or servants, so Cyrus releases my hand himself to push open the door.

He watches me carefully as the bed chamber is revealed to me. It’s much larger than mine and Cyrus’s chambers. The bed in the center has curtains pulled back around it, with a large upholstered frame. The windows make up most of the wall, stretching to the ceiling, allowing a plethora of natural light to illuminate the room. And a large hearth sits in the corner with a fresh set of cushions surrounding it, clearly new.

My eyes widen slightly as I notice the cradle in the corner and a chest overflowing with toys and when I turn to face Cyrus, he’s watching me with an intense expression.

“This is the king and queen’s wing. My parents lived here before me. Their chambers are up the hall, but much like my father’s portrait, I couldn’t bring myself to remove their belongings. So I had this chamber renovated and expanded for us,” he says.

Words escape me as I watch Cyrus. He is a mystery to me. A terrifying, unpredictable mystery. One second he’s fucking me because another beast touched me, and the next, he’s opening up to me as if he wants me to be a prominent part of his life.

Even now, as he watches me, his expression is soft, just like the painting of his younger self.

“I don’t know what to say, Your Majesty. I am grateful you would go to such lengths for my comfort,” I say.

Cyrus chuckles as he closes the space between us. He gently grips my hand, pulling it to his lips as his eyes meet mine.

“Do you rehearse your words to me in front of the mirror at night, Anna?” he asks.

After a moment, he realizes the extent of my silence, his smile disappearing.

“You are still frightened,” he says.

“I…”

I trail off as he places his finger under my chin, lifting my gaze to his.

“Speak plainly with me here. This is your chamber’s as well as mine,” he says.

“You don’t mean that, Your Majesty,” I whisper.

“Don’t I?” he asks, stepping back.

Cyrus moves away from me to a door on the far wall, pushing it open. He holds his hand out to me with a smile on his lips as I place my hand in his, allowing him to lead me into the room.

It’s a wardrobe.

The entire room is dedicated to clothing. The room itself is the size of my old chambers, and it has seven mannequins with gowns already fashioned on them. There are also open cupboards that contain shoes and glass cases that hold jewelry and, to my shock, crowns. I keep walking, looking at the intricate detail of each dress. I’ve never seen dresses like these in court. They are similar to the ones Cyrus has me dress in now. It’s almost as if he is trying to usher in a new fashion era with me at the helm.

“How long have you been planning this?” I ask.

Cyrus shrugs, stepping past me.

“Ever since I received word of that beast’s arrival. I always knew you would remain by my side. I just didn’t know in what capacity. But it became clear to me at that moment.” Cyrus turns to face me before speaking again. “You will be my Queen.”

Cyrus’s words strike a nerve in me that throws up a barrier almost instantly. I shake my head, looking around the wardrobe as despair washes over me. It’s too much. In my entire life, I’ve never even owned a handful of gowns, and none were as fancy as these. My entire life has been a struggle to survive, even when I wasn’t aware of it.

“This isn’t right,” I say aloud.

A visible frown forms on Cyrus’s lips, and I know I’ve made a mistake, but I don’t stop. I can’t—not after seeing what my escape did to the humans who live within Cyrus’s grasp.

“I am not one of you. And I am not noble. I am human. Just like the humans you have branded in your kingdom and placed as outcasts… I was raised in the forests. How can you expect me to ignore their suffering? As if I am not one of them? And enforce these… cruel—”

“You are not them, Annalise.”

Cyrus is watching me with a steady gaze, his expression darkening by the second. Gone is the beast from moments ago that held such a compassionate expression. And long gone is the beast from the painting, the scars a visible reminder of how deep his hatred for humanity runs.

“From the moment you met me, you despised me because of what I was. How can you look at me and not see the whole of humanity?” I ask.

To my shock, Cyrus hasn’t silenced me yet. He only glares at me, reigning in his composure before speaking.

“I’ve told you before. I would never touch a human that isn’t you,” he growls.

“Why? Why me? You could have any woman in this kingdom, yet you tracked me down across the ocean just to bring me back,” I say desperately.

Cyrus scoffs, holding his hand out to me as he crosses the room. I hesitantly place my hand in his, crying out when he suddenly pulls me into him, our bodies flush against one another.

“Is this you getting to know me?” he asks.

His expression is that of confusion as he studies my face. I see him trying to figure me out, his lack of trust showing. But he’s also battling with himself, forcing himself outside of his comfort zone to connect with me. He pulls in a deep breath, his eyes boring into mine as he speaks to me.

“You’ve given me a child. You’ve kept me company even before your betrayal. You bear my seal.” Cyrus’s grip around my hand tightens as he brings it to his chest, his dark gaze meeting mine. “As I said before, and as much as it frustrates me, you have my heart… What more do you need to hear?”

He studies me in confusion, trying to figure out for himself why he feels the way that he does.

“I have made you mine in every way imaginable, Annalise. When will you acknowledge that?”